


Catch me, I'm falling

by gonta



Category: Dangan Ronpa, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Gen, Spoilers, i tagged every character as to not spoil anything immediately, post death reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9684491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonta/pseuds/gonta
Summary: Death is like a long walk into the darkness. Away from the land of the living, and into cold nothingness.But like all journeys, it has a destination.And the dead students begin to slowly arrive.[MAJOR NDRV3 SPOILERS]





	1. The survivor's guide to the dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first one arrives, and realizes that fate is fickle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The children are crying. "Sou, stop making new projects" they say. I smile. "Never."
> 
> OKAY SERIOUSLY THIS IS A SIDE THING THAT I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DO FOR A WHILE... you know all of those "it was all a simulation and no one actually died" fics that have been popping up? This is the opposite of that.
> 
> Like always, comments and kudos are appreciated and cherished!

There’s an endless pounding, a sensation that he can’t quite erase. He’s aware of the pounding before he’s aware of the sand brushing his cheek, before he’s even aware of himself. One eye opens, and then another, and he’s met with shades of beige and grey that remind him of a hospital waiting room. He feels the cool sand against the back of one hand, though the sensation is quickly lost as it flies to his head. Anything to stop the rhythmic pounding.

Something wet covers his fingers, though the rest of the boy’s hair is dry. Even though it’s vague, he hears the gentle cacophony of waves sweeping up near him. So he’s on a beach, then. He can think of worse places to wake up. And maybe the liquid he feels is just water.

But he knows it’s not water. 

The boy manages to push himself upright, his necklace swinging back and forth as he gets a better view of his surroundings. The water is a shade of blue that he thought only existed in blue raspberry candy and clear plastic toys, and the caps of the waves are frothy and white. The color is a stark contrast to the horizon and the sky above - endless, dreary shades of grey, so grey that he can’t even discern where the sun is. Simply a hazy cover.

He holds his hands in his field of vision. His eyes widen when he sees that the one he touched his hair with is covered in blood, but he’s not surprised.

Rantarou Amami laughs.

So much for surviving. 

 

He considers lying out there on the beach all day, just to recollect his thoughts. After all, he has nothing but time now. The realization that he’s dead hits fairly early on - there was a metal ball involved, he knows. A metal ball that’s the same shape and size as the dent in his head. He tries to stop himself from running his hand over the shape, but it’s too tempting. Though it keeps leaking blood, it doesn’t seem to hurt anymore. Rather, it feels almost numb, and the touches send a strange tingling sensation through his head. 

Amami decides to explore - he gets the feeling that he’s the only one in wherever-he-is, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to check. He scans the beach, wondering why it looks so familiar. The whole place has that kind of strange feeling to it. It’s as if it were like something that he saw in a movie a long time ago.

Not a movie.

A TV show. 

He grits his teeth, and shuts his eyes. Faces swim in his field of vision, faces from long ago, but he can’t put names to them. As soon as they start looking familiar, they vanish, leaving him by himself. He’s known forty-five  _ DanganRonpa _ contestants in his whole life, but the first thirty constantly escape his memory. 

As he walks away from the beach and towards what he assumes are more civilized areas (judging by the fact that the sand gives way to pavement, and buildings stretch out in the distance), he tries to remember. What was life like before the show? What was it like between the seasons he was in, even? But his introspection produces no results, and he’s left with more questions than answers. Occasionally, he’ll think that he remembers something, but it goes hazy and he’s left to wonder whether it was real or simply implanted by the producers in order to give him a more “compelling” backstory. 

When did they stop using connotative edits and start using brainwashing on reality TV? The first may have ruined people’s reputations, but the second ruins people’s lives. Huh. 

That’s probably a question that he should have asked when he was alive. 

 

The island - he assumes that it’s an island - is populated by a few sparse buildings. A convenience store, a hotel, several small lodgings, even an airport. The airport doesn’t seem to have any operational planes, but it’s definitely an airport. There is also a huge bridge that leads off into the fog to other islands, all of which Amami tries to explore. Each island has its own distinct character and features, but they all blur together after a while. He’s left wondering why someone has even built half of this stuff in the afterlife, and who it even was. Everything looks as though it’s been unused for years. 

Amami tries to eat some of the food he finds in the hotel kitchen. It tastes amazing, but it sits in his stomach like rocks and he’s forced to vomit it up in a sink somewhere just to rid himself of the feeling. His head still feels numb. The dent won’t stop bleeding, even though he’s certain that he’s bled more than the average human body even contains.

Strange.

His most important discovery is found on the third island. There’s a movie theatre there. Amami isn’t sure what compels him to go into the multiplex, but he does anyway. It smells like old popcorn and lint and he positions himself on an empty chair. The floor is sticky with spilled soda.

He notices a remote next to him, the kind that you use on a TV. It’s strange that that sort of thing would be in a movie theatre, but he picks it up and aims it at the movie screen. 

Amami presses a button, and the screen springs to life. He squints, his eyes adjusting from the darkness of the theatre to the brightness of the screen. 

And he gasps.

 

He’s never seen the room before, but the setup is familiar. Sixteen podiums arranged in a circle, and fifteen of them being occupied by his classmates. All alive, all free of injury, their eyes filled with life. He could almost weep at the sight, in spite of the melancholy implication that the setting provides. Soon, one of them will go to the gallows as his killer.

Who killed him?

His memories of the event turn to static, but he remembers a few things. A trap set up in the room that failed. A flash of blue. 

Blue… 

But the person being incriminated on screen isn’t wearing any blue at all. He stops being distracted by his own podium (occupied by a photograph of him smiling, laid-back as ever) for a moment and the breath catches in his throat. 

It’s not her. It was never her. It couldn’t be her. Are they all going to die?

The votes come in quickly, near-unanimous. He’s frozen to his seat, but it takes Amami all his will not to scream at the screen. 

They all look expectantly at Monokuma, and he tries not to wince.

But he says yes.

Monokuma commends everyone on the screen for figuring out the culprit. The “culprit”’s eyes are wide, and everyone else shouts protests, himself included. Eventually, he can’t take it anymore, and fumbles with the buttons on the remote until the livestream is shut off and he’s enveloped by the same empty quiet that had accompanied him on his previous exploration. 

But in the back of his mind, he knows what’s happening. 

Something calls out to him, a strange energy that Amami can’t quite place. It’s coming from the music venue. He scrambles out of his seat and runs as fast as his legs can carry him, leaving a small trail of blood along the way. His necklaces clink as rhythmically as the pounding in his head. He flings the doors of the venue open, and-

 

There’s a noose tied to something above the stage. It swings gently, but it’s unoccupied.

But that’s not what catches his interest.

Below the noose, slumped on the floor, is a classmate of his. Though she appears unscathed upon first glance, as he gets closer he can see the deep, violent rope burns that circle her neck like a choker. So the execution involved strangulation, then. He hadn’t seen that one from a mastermind before. 

She’s unmoving, but as he climbs onto the stage her eyelids flutter. They gently give way to violet eyes.

“Amami-kun?” She chokes out, her voice gnarled from the evident trauma to her throat. 

“Akamatsu...san?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said earlier, I love comments. Feel free to comment your theories and ideas. Please. feed me i hunger
> 
> Next chapter: Realizations and exploration.


	2. Elegy en Contralto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amami and Kaede connect some dots.

Amami sits with Kaede as she tries to regain her bearings, stroking her hair wordlessly as she shivers and stares at the ground. He doesn't know how much she remembers, but she's in no state to respond to that question. He decides to withhold it for now.

Aside from the rope burns around her throat, she has little pock marks all over her body - like a poke cake, he thinks. How morbid. Something tells him that her execution had nothing to do with those kinds of cakes, though. Questions swirl in his mind, but Kaede is in no shape to answer, so they sit on the stage of the music venue together.

He notices that her nails are still covered with the pink polish he applied, though that event seems like it happened ages and ages ago.

Eventually, she speaks. Her vocal cords are still clearly strained from whatever trauma was enacted upon her throat during that execution of hers. “Where… where are we?” She croaks, turning to face him. Her very face exudes nervous energy. “I couldn't breathe, and then I-” Her eyes widen suddenly. “Your head is bloody.”

Amami shrugs. “This… it's the land of the dead, I think. But there's no one else here. Maybe it's our own personal hell.”

“I'm…”

Kaede lurches away from him suddenly, tears welling in her eyes. Her normally prideful look is gone, replaced by a well of regret and shame.

“I… I killed you, Amami-kun. The trap killed you, right? And I made it, so…” She shakes her head frantically. “I'm sorry! I failed as a leader, didn't I? I let everyone down, and -”

“You didn't kill me, Akamatsu-san,” he blurts out.

Kaede’s expression immediately changes from sadness to concern. “What? I definitely killed you, Amami-kun.” She shakes her head even more. “I mean… Saihara-kun proved that. And everyone voted for me in the trial, but they're still alive! So, how could it-”

He sighs, trying to find a way to tell her. “The trap failed. I saw it fail, so I turned around for a minute. Next thing I know, someone’s bashing me in the head with a metal ball, and…” Amami shrugs. “Now I'm here. I don't know how long I've been here, I don't think time moves normally in the afterlife.”

“Calling it the afterlife… it does make it seem much more final, doesn't it?” Kaede laughs softly, but her face quickly changes into an expression of rage. “Wait. Wait a second. So you're telling me… that I died for _nothing_?! I didn't even kill you?”

“Uhh… no, I don't think so, I don't think that at all. Before I died, there was a flash of blue - you don't wear blue.”

Kaede freezes. Then, she slowly staggers to her feet, shaking with anger. “I… I shouldn't even be dead. How did this happen?”

Amami doesn't have an answer, but she quickly seems to come to her own conclusion. “I think… I think it was the mastermind. They could bend their own rules! Augh, it just makes too much sense! If only Saihara-kun and I had figured out who they were. Then, maybe we would have been able to stop this whole thing. Then, everyone would be alive and safe, and-” She stops short, her face tense and covered in sweat, and sinks back down onto her knees.

“I… I didn't do good as a leader, Amami-kun. I let everyone down.”

He pats her back awkwardly. “Hey, now. Akamatsu-san, listen to me. As far as leaders go, you're a great one. Especially for one in this type of si-”

Wait.

Does Akamatsu remember the reality of their situation? That they had died as part of a TV show, for the entertainment of the masses? He knows that he’s recovered a few memories since he had died, but it might not be the same for her. And the poor girl is already overwhelmed enough, pressing her anymore might result in a full-on breakdown. And despite the fact that Amami has twelve sisters (that’s a fact that hasn't been fabricated by the studios, he knows that much), he's never been good at comforting a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Instead, he decides to take a more roundabout approach to the situation. “Akamatsu-san, what do you remember from before we were brought to Gifted Prisoners’ Academy? Is there anything important?” He pats her leg, trying to reassure her so that she'll answer the question.

Kaede looks at him, then up at the ceiling, as if thinking. “Well… I remember piano competitions from when I was younger, and piano lessons… but it's as if the memories are becoming hazy? Like something else is trying to edge its way in instead.” She coughs, scratching her cheek. “I don't know. It's strange.”

So she still doesn't know, then. The process of regaining memory must be slow for her.

But there still remains the question of whether or not to tell her. The reality of the situation is the one thing that Amami knows for sure, but he still doesn't know if she'll be able to handle that. Does he tell her? Or does he leave it to her to find out?

The latter, he decides, is a lot less messy.

His knees are beginning to feel staticky as he rests on them, so he swings them out from under him and hops off the edge of the stage. He reaches out a hand, motioning for Kaede to take it. “Hey. I wanna show you around here, Akamatsu-san. There's no one else around, but there's a lot of places to go. Maybe it'll make you feel better.” Amami wiggles his fingers, his gaze still trained on her. “So how about it?”

Kaede hesitantly grabs her other arm with her hand, but her eyes go wide when her fingers involuntarily brush one of the pock marks on her arms. Almost immediately, she stops touching it and uses the hand to grab hold of Amami’s hand. “...Okay, Amami-kun,” she says, the tiniest flicker of the old fire she once bore appearing in her eyes again.

She jumps off the stage, and the two of them make their way out of the music venue, the noose hanging from the rafters still swinging as the doors slam shut.

 

* * *

 

 

Exploring the islands is a lot more fun when there's someone else around. Amami and Kaede chat the whole way about things that they never got to cover while they were still alive. The situation is more akin to two old friends taking a vacation stroll than two newly dead ghosts aimlessly ambling through limbo. As they walk, Amami notices that the blood that drips from his head wound disappears a few seconds after it hits the ground, as if evaporating into the air.

The grey skies seem to unnerve Kaede, but if she's perturbed by them, she doesn't voice her concern. They explore various buildings that Amami has been through before, but Kaede’s insights add a new, enlightening layer to the experience. Like watching a beloved movie with the director's commentary on for the first time. It's almost fitting, considering the real nature of their situation.

When they get to the movie theatre, Kaede gushes about how the leather seats remind her of a concert hall she performed in. Amami takes extra care to take the theatre remote (dropped on the ground from last time) and kick it as far away from him as he possibly can.

Her presence is a much-welcomed light in the gloom of their new reality - she’s excited at the whole amusement park that seems to occupy another island, and enthralled about the fact that they're surrounded by tropical blue waters.

“I’ve never been to the beach before. I mean- I never went when I was…” she starts, before the expression fades from her face. Amami gives her an awkward pat on the shoulder, and she straightens up.

With all of the distractions the islands have to offer, neither of them bring up the elephant in the room. Neither of them discuss Amami’s murder, or the mysterious person (though perhaps it's really a thing?) in blue. It's almost certainly on both of their minds, Amami thinks, but he decides against bringing it up. Kaede has been through enough for the day, she doesn't need more of this.

As they walk on, Kaede squeezes his hand tight, and he finds himself returning the gesture as if he'll fly away if he lets go.

 

* * *

 

 

As it turns out, time does pass in the afterlife. All of the clocks are stuck, their hands frozen at different, unreliable times. But the sky does begin to turn black at a certain time, just like in the real world. And like the world they left behind what seems like months ago, there are stars.

It's an astounding contrast to the ugly greys that highlighted their journeys before - glowing lights of all shapes and sizes pepper the sky, softly pulsing from a distance. Amami realizes that he feels like an astronaut looking at earth from a distance.

This is the feeling that Momota is after, he realizes, and he forces himself to look away out of remorse.

Kaede is still a little shaken, and states that she doesn't really want to sleep alone. Amami doesn't blame her - the day has taken a lot out of him, and it's as if the dimension they're trapped in is signalling that “ghosts _can_ sleep, and you two need to”.

He and Kaede take a bunch of pillows and blankets from the hotel, and set out to find a comfortable place to sleep. Kaede notices an airplane in the lot of the airport with its top half completely cut off, exposing its luxurious insides to the sky above. The two of them make their way into there, and set up their supplies. Just like camping, Amami thinks. Of course, he's never camped in a luxury plane before.

Hell, he's never even camped. Those were just memories implanted by the producers his first time around, when his talent was “SHSL Adventurer”. He sighs, and Kaede raises an eyebrow towards him out of curiosity, but he assures her that it's nothing.

The two of them lay on the unused airplane furniture for a while, eyes trained toward the sky with the intensity and focus of someone looking for UFOs. Though Amami knows his head wound is still leaking, the pillow feels dry. He knows that Kaede is gently fingering the rope burn around her neck.

For a period, neither of them speaks.

Then, she pipes up. “Hey, Amami-kun?”

“Yeah?” he mumbles, blinking back sleep as it tries to take him.

“I think… it might get boring here with just the two of us after a while.”

“Erm…”

“But,” she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice. “I don't mind that. You're a good guy, Amami-kun. And, if we stay alone together here… it means that none of our friends have died, right? I can… I can rest easy knowing that.”

He can hear her radiating with pride and hope, typical of a _DanganRonpa_ protagonist.

Man, what kind of a season is it now that their protagonist-type is gone?

“You're a good person, Akamatsu-chan.”

“Hm… lately, I don't know about that. But thank you.” He hears her roll over on the airplane furniture. “Goodnight, Amami-kun.”

“Goodnight,” he responds. When he closes his eyes, he has no trouble drifting off to sleep.

It's the best sleep he's had in years.

The waves lap against the sides of the island, creating a lullaby for the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't ship amamatsu and I don't really want this to be perceived as romantic, but I do think that they would be good friends.
> 
> Next Chapter: Strange objects wash up on the beach.
> 
> As always, I love comments and they are much appreciated! I'd love to hear your theories and ideas for what might come next. Thank you for reading!


	3. Long Walks, Concertos, and Broken Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other shoe is dropped.

Kaede is still sound asleep when Amami wakes up to watch the sun rise. Waking up early has not always been a habit of his, but he developed it during the second season he was in. Every day, he would wake up about ten minutes before the announcement and lie awake until the scratchy, nails-on-a-chalkboard brogues of Monokuma blared over the loudspeakers. It gave him much-needed solace, though the sense of dread it always filled him with was unmatched. That season took place in a hotel, he thinks. 

But the sky is still a swirling grey when he wakes up, and grey it remains. He finds himself staring at the swirling clouds that dance above him, like a child trying to pick out shapes in the ones that interested him. A snake, maybe. Or a spiral. Or a visual representation of the melancholy of his current existence. 

Yeah, it’s probably that last one. 

He can hear Kaede’s gentle snoring as she slumbers on, unmoving under the blankets except for the rising and falling of her chest. In conjunction with the rushing sound of the waves against the islands’ shores, the sound is almost soothing. It’s a much less rude awakening than when he first woke up here, when it was drowned out by the unimaginable pain in his head.

He wonders if Kaede’s throat is still raw from suffocation.

Is this hell? Amami takes the time to consider the possibility. If it is, it’s certainly a lot calmer than he imagined it would be. But it doesn’t seem like heaven, either - it’s far too gloomy, its quiet solace more desolate than anything. There is no singing of angels or pearly gates, just a vast, endless sea and infectious feelings of uncertainty. 

Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s just limbo - a resting place for neither good nor bad people. After all, they’ve all been forced into the situation of the killing game, forcibly shaken to the core until their true selves and memories are but a shadow in the back of their minds. Most of the other students seemed morally ambiguous at best to Amami during his time spent with them, but he could never know their true intentions. 

He sighs. Somehow, thinking too deeply about this place seems dangerous. Like that if he were to discover the real conceit of the ghostly islands, they would unravel beneath his feet, sending him and Kaede flying into endless abyss. Maybe he’ll return to the thought later, but not now. 

The clouds swirl above him, and he realizes that he can no longer pick out their shapes. 

 

Kaede awakens shortly afterwards, yawning and stretching to greet the day. They had both slept in their clothes. Maybe there were some other clothes somewhere on the island, but neither of them had had any idea where it might be the night before. Her sweater is rumpled, tie askew.

The rope burns are still firebrand-bright on her neck, and Amami pretends not to notice how her hands fly to her throat when her eyes snap open. 

She did make sure to remove her hairpins last night, though. He watches as she goes about folding them into her blonde tresses with immense care, a sliver of her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth in deep concentration. Somehow, her seriousness makes him smile. 

When she's done with her hair, she casts her gaze towards Amami and gives him a warm smile. “Good morning, Amami-kun!” She exclaims. 

Amami absentmindedly scratches his hair, once again surprised when his hand brushes over the dent in his head. There's a twinge of sadness in Kaede’s eyes as she watches him do this, but she says nothing. 

“Morning…” he murmurs, before meeting her line of sight. “Don't bother with breakfast. I don't know if we can digest food.”

Her brow furrows. “Really?”

“I tried, but it just kind of… sat in my stomach. Like rocks.”

“Gross…” Kaede shudders, and he almost feels bad for making her think about the logistics of their deaths. But she quickly recovers from whatever thoughts have entered her mind. “I guess… I guess we have all the time in the world here, right?” She holds out her fingers, as if calculating a sum that only she understands. “So. What do you want to do?” 

“Uh…” it takes him a moment to think about that. The limbo they're in offers a great deal in terms of things to do, but the problem is that there's too much of it. Amami can't think of anything in particular he'd like to get done - does he even need to get anything done, anymore? His mind flashes to the strange theatre from before, but he quickly shoos the thought away. Kaede doesn't need to see any of that. Watching what her alive classmates are doing would only make her (and him, though he only admits it to himself) feel horrible. 

Instead, he blurts out the first thing he can think of. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

“A walk?” 

“Yeah - on the beach, maybe?” He scratches the back of his neck absentmindedly. He'd like the chance to talk to Kaede more, especially since he spent most of his time in the game avoiding others in order to formulate his own plans. Which, in retrospect, didn't work out particularly well for him. Besides, it's entirely possible that her real-world memories could have returned while they slept. He has to at least consider the possibility. 

She smiles, and the tension in his shoulders eases. “Sure!” Kaede retorts, and they exit their makeshift living space together. 

 

The two of them leave their shoes and socks in a pile near where the pathway to the beach ends, and Amami can feel each granule of sand between his bare toes. The waves continue to lap against the shore in their never-ending way, a welcome sound in the otherwise eerie silence of the whole area. 

He and Kaede walk along the shoreline, the former occasionally letting out a soft yelp when the cool water tickles her toes. Amami can't help but laugh, despite their current situation. In a way, it's peaceful. 

When Kaede seems relaxed, he decides to start probing her. “So, Akamatsu-san…” he reflexively rests his hands on the back of his neck, elbows bent as they walk on. “What was it like? Being the Super High School Level Pianist, I mean. You must have had to practice a lot, right?” 

He can tell from Kaede’s expression that he's clearly made the right choice in conversation topics, because her eyes sparkle. “Oh, of course I did! But it was all worth it, really. My friends might have thought I was crazy, I practiced so much,” she admits, “But it was my passion, really. Still is.”

“You won any competitions, or something?”

“Yeah, I did. A few, in fact-” she begins to rattle off the names of a few competitions that he isn't particularly familiar with, so he just nods. “Winning those… it was exhilarating! It was…” she trails off, unsure how to finish. A distant look finds its home in her eyes. 

“Oh?”

“Well… I don't know. I used to be able to remember those competitions really clearly, but now they're all… foggy. It's strange.”

Amami decides to put it bluntly. “What  _ do _ you remember, Akamatsu-san?”

She takes a moment to ponder the question. “Well, I still remember things that happened to me, they're just not too clear - not as clear as I thought they were, I mean. But I remember all the sheet music I've memorized. Things like that.” 

Somehow, he gets the feeling that she wasn't able to tell up from down when it came to sheet music before the brainwashing. But the fact that her fabricated memories are disappearing - it's progress, at least. She'll probably remember soon enough. 

But what happens when she does? Will she be an entirely different person than she was when they first met, than the person she is now? He vaguely remembers before the brainwashing, when everyone gathered in the gymnasium. She seemed to still possess her proactive nature, but… 

“Amami-kun?” Her voice snaps him out of his trance, and he notices that she has a concerned expression on her face. “Something on your mind?” 

He shakes his head, trying to shake the pensive look that was probably on his face with it. “Ah… it's nothing. Don't worry about it.”

Kaede looks like she's going to say something, but she suddenly stops walking. Eyes trained on the sand, she squats down and examines a pile of rocks that Amami hadn't noticed before. 

At least, he thinks they're rocks. They're all white in color, and irregularly shaped. Pretty small, in fact. “You into geology, or something?” He asks Kaede, who smirks in response before her expression returns to normal. 

“No, it's… these are strange. Were they here yesterday?” She questions. Amami shrugs, not certain that he looked at the beach hard enough when he first arrived. As he watches, Kaede takes one in her hand and turns it over. Her eyes widen. “It's… warm?” She presses her fingers to the other rocks, but her reaction doesn't change. 

All Amami can think to say in response is “Weird.” 

A feeling of unease settles between the two, spurred by the weird rocks. The more Amami thinks about it, the less sure he is that they even  _ are _ rocks. But Kaede looks extremely disconcerted, so he decides that the best course of action is to distract her. 

“Hey,” he pipes up, and she turns to look at him. “Speaking of piano, I think there's one in the music venue. Maybe you could give me a concert.” 

“The Titty Typhoon?” Kaede asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Amami allows himself a smile, and nods in response. “Sure! It's been awhile since I've played, anyway. I could use the practice.”

As the two retrace their steps on the beach back to the path, Amami can't help but glance back at the pile of rocks. 

Strange. 

 

They pick up their shoes and make their way over the bridge to the island with the music venue. It's as foggy as ever, Amami notes. It's difficult for him to see anything in the distance except the other islands, and even then they're sometimes obscured by the grey mist. 

When they arrive at the music venue, Kaede takes notice of the piano that sits at the foot of the stage. It's always been there, but she was too shaken when she first arrived in the music venue for it to register. Amami supposes that he can understand that. 

He stands off to the side as she plunks herself down on the piano bench, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater ever so slightly. Amami catches a glimpse of the circular marks that mar her skin for a moment, and she pushes her sleeves back down almost immediately before he can even get out a syllable edgewise. For a moment, there are no words. Merely silence between them, an unspoken solace. 

After a little bit, Kaede straightens up. “Is there anything you want me to play?” she inquires, turning slightly on the bench towards him. 

He considers this for a second, trying desperately to remember any songs that he was into before the killing game - but he comes up empty. “I don't know,” he confesses, “What do you want to play?”

Kaede thinks for a moment. “Well, my favorites are… probably Rhapsody in Blue, Yiruma’s ‘River Flows in You’, and Clair de Lune.”

“Play the last one, then,” Amami suggests. It's the only one whose name he recognizes, and even then the recognition is a little vague. Still, it's something. 

“...Right.” She lowers her head to examine the keys of the piano, her stature becoming more relaxed. 

And she plays. 

 

Amami’s never seen anything like it before. Kaede’s hands are definitely pianist’s hands - the fingers elegant and slender, and they glide over the keys with ease. She coaxes the notes from the instrument in such a way that exhibits her mastery over it. It's as if each note is a seed that she's watering, and they blossom into music that takes his breath away. For a time, he forgets where he is, and even his current situation. That he's standing in a shoddy music venue on a ghostly island surrounded by nothing but aquamarine water and foreboding clouds. The music is like nothing he's ever heard, and it soothes him to his very soul. 

Kaede plays one final note, and lets it vibrate through the air until it fades into nothingness. Amami feels himself coming back down to earth, and the soles of his shoes feel heavier, somehow. 

For a moment, everything is still. He can hear Kaede’s gentle breathing, and the only other sound is the distant waves breaking against the sides of the islands. It's a quiet like a pond before stones are skipped in it, an almost religious solitude that he relishes. 

There's a beat. 

And then another beat. 

And then a spine-rattling scream shatters their newfound tranquility into a million jagged pieces. 

Kaede jumps, and her fingers slam down on the piano instinctively, creating a sound that's anything but elegant. She quickly swivels around to face Amami, eyes wide. “Did you hear that?” She whispers, as if it's possible that he didn't. But it was one of the loudest things he's ever heard. He gulps, then nods. Her face falls. “Oh, no… does this mean that someone else is…!” 

“I hope not. I really do.” Amami’s heart is thundering like a jackhammer, and he swears he can hear sweat leaking down his face. “But I feel something weird. I-it’s coming from the beach on the first island, I think.”

Kaede shivers. “I feel it too…” she mumbles, but she quickly straightens up. “Well, don't just stand there!” She chides him, though she looks more fearful than he's ever seen her. “We have to check it out, don't we!”

Before he can reply, she's taken him by the hand and is yanking him along as she runs at full force. Amami nearly flies off of his feet as he struggles to keep up with her, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach all the while. Like a coiled snake, ready to pounce. 

It's a feeling he hasn't felt since his first time in a killing game. 

 

Amami’s intuition proves correct. Someone  _ is _ on the beach. 

While the two run, his mind swirls with possibilities. Who would be the next one to kick the bucket? Maybe Shirogane or Yumeno - those two tend not to be on guard, and as a result would be susceptible to dying. For a moment, he considers that the person who had died might not have even been part of the killing game, but a mere sojourner passing through this ghostly island of theirs - before shaking his head. That’s nothing more than wishful thinking, and it is foolish to the core. 

But nothing could have prepared him for what happens next. 

As they speed down the path, Kaede pants. But when they come to the point where the path breaks into sand, her next gasp catches in her throat as the two of them stop short. 

There, with his back turned and face pointed downwards, pounding the sand in desperation with one bruised fist, is the last person Amami would have expected to die this early on in the game. As he and Kaede watch in shock and horror, he repeats to himself in a gravelly monotone as if it's a mantra: “I'm fine. It's nothing. I'm fine. I'm…” 

He stops, hesitating a moment, before the facade finally breaks. “Christ! Jesus fucking Christ! She didn't even… I didn't…” He releases a strangled, incomprehensible cry from his throat before uttering one final “Goddamnit! God fucking dammit!” 

Beside Amami, Kaede manages to get out a single phrase. 

“Hoshi...kun?” 

 

Her words hang in the air like smoke, and they cause him to go completely rigid. As if nothing happened, he shakily adjusts his hat on his head and cranes his neck around to look at them. 

As soon as he does that, Amami immediately wishes that he hadn't. 

The left side of his face is the same as he remembers it - rosy cheeks and a freakishly huge eye, leaking saline liquid in a way that completely belies the bemused expression he's desperately trying to hold up in spite of it all. But just past his round nose, everything goes to hell. It's as if someone’s torn away his skin like notebook paper, leaving cracked white bone in its place. Exposing a row of teeth and an empty, black void of an eye socket that pierces Amami’s very soul with the sheer nothingness inside. 

Kaede lets out a gasp beside him, and he blurts out “Oh my god, what the hell happened to you?” before he can stop himself. 

Hoshi blinks his one remaining eyelid, as if he hasn't considered the question before. “The better question is. What happened to all of us?”

“Hoshi-kun… what are you talking about?” Kaede whimpers. He lets out a harsh, barking laugh in response. 

“I'm not Killer Tennis. That's as fake as you being a piano player, or Momota being an astronaut, or…” he lifts his head towards the heavens, and with a wide eye, smiles shakily. Total resignation, a collapsing of the detachment he's clung to for so long. “..All of it. It's all fake!”

“H-Hoshi-kun?!”

As the third arrival to the afterlife slumps over, shaking almost catatonically, Amami can only think of one thing to say. 

“...Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME TO SOU'S HOUSE OF SYMBOLIC GORE IT ONLY GETS MORE WILD FROM HERE
> 
> Alternate summary: "Kaede and Amami enter the bone zone"
> 
> ...So, yeah. This was a thing that happened. Those "rocks" are exactly what you think they are.
> 
> Next Chapter: Kaede gets a reality check.
> 
> As always, I love comments and they are much appreciated! I'd love to hear your theories and ideas for what might come next. Thank you for reading!


	4. Briny Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaede puts two and two together.

Before either of them can stop him, Hoshi pulls himself to his feet and quickly runs off. He's as fast as he was when he was alive, although he makes an unsettling clattering noise as his feet pound against the island path. Amami feels himself reaching out, as if he could grab him by the back of his shirt - before realizing that he doesn't have anything good to say, and that he's too far away anyway. The last time they talked was when they had a confrontation about the first motive. 

Amami had gone to investigate the mastermind so that Hoshi (and all of the others, bless their souls) wouldn't have to sacrifice himself. So that everyone would live on. 

Yeah, he thinks as Hoshi disappears into the distance. That sure worked out well. 

He's a mere dot on the horizon when Kaede turns to him, her normally warm gaze now hesitant and cold. Her eyes are glassy, not-yet-formed tears composing a film over lilac pupils. As quickly as they're there, she shakes her head and they retreat into the bottoms of her eyes. She fixes him with a hard stare, and he uncomfortably twists his ring under her sordid gaze. 

It takes her a while to find the words, but Amami is frozen to his spot. But after a while, she sighs, and her shoulders slump. “What…” she chokes out, blonde hair hanging in her face like curtains. “What is this? What do you know?” 

Where to even begin. He feels himself blanch - Hoshi’s memories returned the moment he died, it seems. Has her rude awakening caused Kaede to regain hers? But she still looks as confused as ever, albeit with a new layer of sadness that makes his heart feel tight in his chest. 

Before he can stop himself, he finds himself mechanically blurting out trivia from the wiki page he's read hundreds of times, even before this whole thing came to fruition. “ _ DanganRonpa _ is a Japanese reality television series that airs on several networks, created by the Team Danganronpa production house. It is an elimination-style game presented in the form of a murder mystery, with each season placing a cast of sixteen talented students in a setting and making them kill each other off systematically. The show debuted in-” 

“Amami-kun… stop. Just stop.” her voice is quiet, but it's enough to completely stop him in his verbal tracks. She doesn't meet his gaze. “I don't understand. So all of this… it was…” Kaede rubs her temples. “Was Hoshi-kun… right?” 

Amami feels his shoulders droop - he feels everything droop, really. It's a miracle that his own two feet remain planted on the ground. 

“...Yeah,” his tongue is heavy in his mouth as he speaks, but he speaks nonetheless. “The past that you remember having is probably not real. The producers brainwash the contestants to have more interesting backstories.” 

Kaede’s arms begin to shake. “All of those piano competitions…” she murmurs. Amami moves to put a hand on her shoulder, but she lurches away before his fingers can brush her sweater. “You knew, didn't you? You knew all along. Why didn't you just tell me, Amami-kun?”

He ponders this for a moment, before speaking. “I didn't want to… you weren't remembering anything from beforehand. I thought that either you wouldn't, or that I had a while before they would and I would have to explain everything, so-”

“No, never mind that!” She jabs a shaking finger at him, prodding one of his ribs. “Did you know while we were in the school?”

It's the question that Amami didn't know he was dreading, and it causes him to go tense. His eyes dart around, trying to find something to focus on aside from Kaede’s face. She looks hurt- no,  _ betrayed _ . It's a face he's seen a thousand times in trials, but never directed at him. He was never someone who did anything worthy of that look. 

Uncomfortably, he folds his hands. He blinks once, then twice, before sighing in resignation. “Sort of.” 

As Kaede watches him, he goes on to explain the perks he had - his talent of “survivor”, the access to the maps on his monopad, and benefits that he never even got to employ during his short time on the show. And as a result, he’s also forced to explain his past experiences on the show to her. The two seasons he's been on are described in a blur as Kaede’s eyes widen but she never stops to speak a word in his direction. He weaves the story with trembling hands, connecting threads and people in a way that he's never been able to verbally articulate with anyone before. 

When he's done, he can feel the weight of his experiences on his back. Expectantly, he looks up at Kaede, as if begging her to topple over the load so that he can walk straight again. 

Instead, she adds another huge boulder. 

Kaede shakes her head, her pins hanging loosely in her hair. “You could have helped us,” is the first thing she says. “You… you could have told us, Amami-kun. Why didn't you tell us?” 

“Well, you know how it is. Survivors have to look out for their own lives first, and-”

“No.” The word falls hard, like an anvil crushing every bone in his foot. “I preached and prattled on about trusting one another, about everyone getting along. And yet, you… you didn't even try to trust anyone or gain their trust, did you?” She's looking down at the ground now, tears desperately clinging to her wavering eyelashes. “You looked out for yourself.”

“I-”

“And you could have told me that our memories were fake when I got here, right?  _ You _ remembered. I still don't…” she chokes back a strangled noise. “I still don't know anything. You lied to me, Rantarou Amami. A lie of omission is still a lie.” 

There's a hollow  _ thunk _ , and it takes him a moment to realize that the sound wasn't real. Just a hallucinatory representation of the other shoe dropping. 

He clears his throat, complete and utter defeat overtaking him. “Come with me,” he murmurs. “I don't think I can keep this from you, either.”

 

The movie theatre feels even more empty than it did the first time he sat down and watched the one movie it had to offer. The one endless, despair-filled movie. Wasn't a despair movie a plot point on a previous season? It sounds familiar, anyway. 

Kaede’s eyes are so wide that they look like they might pop as she watches what's unfolding on the screen. They're investigating now, Amami notes. 

Saihara isn't wearing his hat anymore. 

It doesn't seem like anyone knows how to react to Hoshi’s death - Amami wasn't there to see his body discovery, but the pile of bones that lay in the bottom of a fish tank onscreen is enough to curdle his stomach acid. He shuts his eyes, trying to ignore Kaede trembling next to him. This was the only other thing he knew on the island that she didn't know about, and now he wasn't sure if he should have even shown it to her. Watching the show unfold gave it a new, helpless feeling - to most watching at home, it was fun to try and solve the mysteries along with the cast.  _ DanganRonpa _ didn't have any real consequences out there, it was just another popular tv show. 

But to someone like him, who's been on both sides of the screen - it feels like he's restrained, tied to his chair. All he can do is watch. 

Completely helpless. 

A loud, bell-like noise startles him from his stupor, forcing his eyes open and causing them to stare Monokuma’s ugly mug right in the face. He's announcing the class trial, Amami registers, and begins to turn towards Kaede-

Before realizing that she's gone. The seat next to him is empty, not a trace of the phony pianist remaining save for a few spots on the velvet seats caused by her tears. He sighs, resting his elbow on the armrests of his chair and lazily driving his fist into his cheek. 

And it's just him and  _ DanganRonpa _ , just like it always was. 

 

* * *

 

Kaede had taken time to herself. God knows that she needed it, after all of this happening. Every time she tried to recollect her thoughts, everything she was once able to recall was a blur - perhaps the increase in speed for the process was caused by the sudden shock, she theorizes. She's no psychologist, but the memories that were once so clear swim before her. 

Who even cares about them, though? They're all fake, anyway. Nothing but some schlock produced by television executives. She could almost vomit. 

She recollects herself to the best of her ability, before remembering. Two may be a party, but three's a crowd - despite the fact that she and Amami might as well be a party, with how much Hoshi keeps his distance from everyone. 

In fact, leaving Hoshi to his own devices may be the worst thing that either of them could have done, she realizes. 

It takes a moment for her to realize that they're all dead. There's nothing that Hoshi could do, even if he wanted to. 

Still, her leaderly instincts persevere within her, and she sets out to find him. 

She doesn't have to look long - he's on the same island as the theatre, after all. It probably could be worse, what with a multitude of islands available for exploring. But she figures that there's a few places where he'd never go, so she immediately knocks those off of her list and sets about exploring the third island. 

She finds him sitting outside, leaning against one of the walls of the shabby motel. One of his stubby legs sticks out, while the other is folded. He balances a cigarette between his fingers, giving it all of his attention instead of acknowledging Kaede. 

His wrists are ringed blue with bruises, she notices. 

As she looks on, he sticks the cigarette in his mouth (taking great care to make sure it's on the side where his lip is still intact) and takes a long, hard drag. But much to his evident chagrin, the smoke leaks out of the exposed side of his jaw and his empty eye socket. Hoshi sighs and shakes his head before turning to Kaede. 

“Would ya look at that. I can't even smoke right,” the words come out in a dark chuckle, and he lifts the brim of his hat slightly in greeting. It's hard for Kaede not to cringe at his face, but she manages to swallow it down. He pats the ground next to him with one hand as he turns the cigarette over and over in another, and she hesitantly pops a squat. 

There's silence between them, long and hard. Like a wedge driven between them. But slowly, Kaede works up the courage to speak. 

She prods her fingers together. “Do you… do you know who-” 

“Toujou,” he answers without hesitation, not meeting her eyes. 

“Toujou-san?!” Kaede gasps. “But she was- I mean-”

“It's okay. Don't worry about someone like me,” he shrugs, looking off to the side. 

While that answer might have cut it when they were both unaware of their then-current situation, it no longer sits well with Kaede. “Hoshi-kun… please.” She hangs her head, crossing her arms loosely. “Please stop pretending you're alright.”

“And why not? I've been doing that for so long,” Hoshi mutters. “So long that when I finally cracked, Toujou mistook it as assent.”

“I-”

“She asked to kill me, ‘cause I thought I had nothing to live for. There was s’posed to be no one out there waiting for me,” he attempts to take another drag of the cigarette, wincing when the smoke escapes before he can blow it out. “But when she was holdin’ my head under the water, my lungs failing - it all came back. But by then it was too late.”

“I'm… I'm sorry,” Kaede whispers, not sure what to say to that. She fingers the pock marks on her arms. God, she had been  _ impaled _ , riddled with holes, and all she has to show for it were a few blemishes. Suddenly, something occurs to her - and in a strange, sad way, it excites her. She turns to the phony tennis player as he absentmindedly raps his fingernails against his exposed skull. “Hoshi-kun. Do you know what your life was like before all this?” 

The rapping stops, and he slowly brings his hand down and balls it into a halfhearted fist. “I had a family,” he states, though it sounds like he's just getting used to the fact. “A big family, and none of them are dead. A lover, too- they didn't make up that part. But they were right about one thing.”

“Hmm?”

With his one remaining eye, he lands an empty void of a gaze on Kaede. “The old me really  _ is _ dead. He just wasn't who I thought he was. I can remember, but he's gone.” 

“Maybe that's for the best, Hoshi-kun.”

"That's not the only thing. I spent all my time trying to not get close to others so that they wouldn't get hurt. But, like... for what? I didn't even do anything. Was this the reality that serial killer enthusiast who bore my name wanted?" Hoshi runs a finger over his wrist, tracing the dark blue line that marrs it. “But I know the one thing he wanted. He wanted to die. And look - now I'm dead. But I have to wonder if everyone else was the same way.”

“Hoshi-kun, I-”

He sighs. “Was Gokuhara as good of a person as he was when I knew him? Did Yonaga really have faith in her god? Did Momota really want to go to space?”

Kaede rubs her temples. “I came here to… I dunno, cheer you up. Not question the nature of the universe.”

Hoshi smiles sheepishly. “I guess I can get like that. Sorry for wastin’ your time.”

“It wasn't a waste of time!” She exclaims, almost forcing the words out. “But… are you sure you'll be alright?”

“I don't think I was ever alright, and I don't think I will be,” he shrugs. “I don't think I mind this either, though. ‘Sides the fact that I can't smoke right, I look pretty cool.” 

Kaede laughs, shaking her head. She had thought that her old friend had been completely and utterly destroyed - though he clearly wasn't the same, that wasn't the case. 

“So… what now?” She asks. Hoshi bites his lip, not having considered the question before. Kaede watches as he takes his time to formulate an answer. 

Eventually, his resignation is evident on his face. “I don't know. I wanted to die so badly that I didn't want anything else.” He looks down, ashamed. “Maybe I'll try being more open. It's pointless now, anyway. The Ryouma Hoshi who entered the game is dead… but so is Killer Tennis, I guess.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of Kaede’s lips. She places her hand unsurely on his shoulder, and he tenses up a little before relaxing and letting out a huffy sigh. For a while, neither of them speak - though the silence is one of understanding and vague uncertainty,  not one of awkwardness. 

But there's a thought that enters her mind that makes her stop cold in her tracks. “Hey, Hoshi-kun.” she murmurs, cupping her chin with her hand. He turns to her curiously. “There should be a class trial going on now, shouldn't there?” 

“I died, so I'd assume so. Why?”

“Because…” Kaede gulps. “Because I think we're going to have company soon.”

“What are you-” his eyes (eye?) suddenly widen. “Oh. Oh.” 

It's not long before she's flooded with the same gut feeling as last time, like a cross between a stomach cramp and a feeling of guilt. She can feel her face contorting in displeasure. When she looks over at Hoshi, she can see that beads of sweat have begun to form on his forehead. 

The sound of approaching footsteps makes her look up to see Amami, looking as remorseful as ever. But there's a newfound sense of terror on his face. “Guys. I-”

Kaede shrinks back, not bothering to dignify him with a response, and his face falls. 

That's not the only thing that falls. 

Before any of them can react, there's a sound of something hurtling down from the sky. Amami turns around, and they all bear witness to  _ something _ falling from the sky. Kaede can make out bits of grey and black, but it's only a second before it lands with a crash on another one of the ghostly islands. 

No, not _ it _ .  _ She _ . 

Amami blinks, Kaede puts a hand to her forehead, and Hoshi takes another long, hard drag on his cigarette. 

As the smoke drifts out of Hoshi’s skull, Amami mutters something about “going to get her” and dashes off. Kaede’s left staring at the back of the man who knew too much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello im back sorry for taking a while on this one
> 
> This was a fun one to write. If you've read my stuff you should know how much I love Hoshi. I'm trying to explore his character a lot here.
> 
> Did it hurt when Toujou fell from heaven? I mean, probably.
> 
> As always, I love comments and they are much appreciated! I'd love to hear your theories and ideas for what might come next. Thank you for reading!


	5. Plummet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive given up on writing those summaries lmao

Amami finds Toujou lying on another island, her clothes tattered in a raggedy look unbefitting someone so proper as herself. His eyes scan her, taking in the various cuts all over her body - specifically her hands, deeply stained with crimson and the palms utterly ruined. Not even the most experienced chiromancer could read her future, now - somewhat fitting, since she’ll never have one. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is unsteady, but it's  _ still  _ breathing. And that's the best she can do, at this rate. 

He crouches down by her body, his hand gently brushing hers as he assesses the brunt of the damage. He hears quick, approaching footsteps - from a pair of Mary Janes and some shoes with a jangly chain attached to the wearer’s ankle - and his moment of repose with the maid comes to an end. There's no sound save for the ever present lapping of the waves. If someone were to take a picture of the three standing over Toujou in repose, it would resemble one of those archaic western religious paintings. 

Somehow. 

He turns to Kaede and Hoshi, his expression stormy. “There was a hospital on one of the islands, right?” He says, trying too hard to come off as casual. But knowing that a fourth of their little group has died is enough to shake any of them up. Amami’s used to the feeling from past seasons. But in those seasons, he didn't die. “We should… we should take her there until she wakes up.” 

“She's still breathing?” Hoshi mutters, almost imperceptibly. Amami nods, trying to avoid his downcast gaze. It isn’t difficult, though, since his attention is squarely focused on the ground beneath his feet. 

“Yeah. I’ll-”

“No, you won’t,” Kaede’s voice is gentle, but firm, somewhere between resignation and determination. Before Amami can move to act, she kneels by Toujou’s side and lifts her up. Her body gives as if it were a rag doll, her face and limbs slack. She regards the two boys, giving them a quick nod that Amami soon realizes is meant only for Hoshi and not for him. “I’ll take her to the hospital until she wakes up. You two… just sit tight, I guess.” 

Before Amami can say anything, she’s already begun to walk off. The two boys look on as she shrinks into the distance, Toujou in hand. 

He turns to Hoshi, but the boy has an unpleasant expression on his face that hasn’t left it since he’s laid eyes on Toujou. Amami can’t really parse what he’s feeling, but a thought enters his mind. 

It may be a long shot, but it’s still a shot. 

 

Toujou is a lot heavier than she looks, Kaede notes as she makes her way down to the hospital. It could be worse, though, she supposes. After all, Toujou normally wore those bulky skirts while she was alive. But whatever happened to her when she died… her maid’s uniform, normally so well-kept, looks like it’s gone through the paper shredder. Her milky pale skin is nearly luminescent, but it’s so marred by cuts that its pallor is somewhat negated.

The walk to the hospital is long and somewhat arduous with her new burden, but it does give her time to think. 

Does Toujou know about the reality of their situation? Amami knew all along, and Hoshi remembered upon fully materializing. But Kaede didn’t. Perhaps the experience is different for everyone, she considers. It’s almost funny: is death meant to be personalized? People go through the mourning process differently, but the dying process… 

Toujou’s breathing becomes more even as they approach the hospital, and Kaede finds herself marvelling at just how peaceful she looks even in spite of the ragged state of her body. And as Kaede pushes the hospital doors open, she tries her best not to think too deeply about the thorns poking out of a few of her cuts.

Maybe she should try to pull those out, later. But her skin crawls at the thought.

 

“Hoshi-kun?”

The phony tennis player blinks, and turns to Amami with a weary look on his face. He at least had the chance to sleep here, Amami reminds himself. For Hoshi, this has to have been the longest day of his life - or death. It was no use debating those kinds of specifics now. 

“Yeah?” He grumbles in response, making Amami even more hesitant to ask him the question that's been playing on the edge of his mind for a while now. But he does have to know, and Hoshi has more in common with the subject of the question than he cares to admit. He may have spent the game warning others of his crimes, but he clearly wasn't a real-life killer. 

He wouldn't do  _ that _ , would he? 

It's necessary to preface the question somewhat, so he goes about doing that. “You remember when I was… killed, right?” The query is tentative, and Hoshi lifts a droopy lid and nods in response. The bones of his neck creak audibly, and Amami tries not to cringe. 

“Uh-huh. What about it?”

“Well…” How to phrase this in a way that won't make him seem like he's crazy? Then again, they're in the afterlife. Everything seems crazy at this point. So he decides that the best way to state it is bluntly. “Akamatsu-san didn't kill me.” 

Hoshi doesn't react, not one bit. He simply stares at the ground, his eye glassy. Amami tries to look him in the eyes, but a simple sidelong glance into his other, empty eye socket is enough to stir up feelings of queasiness in his stomach. But his face remains stoic, as if he's deeply thinking. 

Amami tries to clarify. “The trap that she made… it didn't work. The shot-put landed behind me. But then I saw a weird flash of blue, and… well.” He scratches his head almost impulsively, and tries his best motto flinch when his fingers come away covered in blood. Hoshi gives his hands a long, hard stare before letting out a beleaguered exhale and glancing up at him. 

“So you think it was me.” It's not a question. 

Amami crosses his arms and sighs. “It's a possibility. You are-  _ were _ a mass murderer, you wear blue, and your M.O. - it makes sense.”

Hoshi tanks his hat over his eyes and grunts. “You're not wrong for thinkin’ that. But I wasn't anywhere near the library when the murder happened.”

Amami’s eyes narrow in suspicion, though he tries his best to conceal it. “You could just be saying-”

There's a look of desperate exasperation in Hoshi’s eyes, and Amami flinches as he grinds his teeth. “Do you really think I could even  _ reach _ your head, Amami?” His voice is scarily quiet, much less angry than his mannerisms would have made him anticipate it as being. 

“You're… I guess you're right about that,” he mutters, shame creeping into his voice. He supposes that he's still so used to everyone’s personalities from the killing game that he's still inclined to judge them by how they acted then. And that includes Hoshi’s insistence that he was a serial killer. 

Hoshi looks as though he's going to say something back, but his expression takes on a particular melancholy and he turns his back to the so-called survivor. 

“You know, I always thought I'd look forward to dyin’.” His tone of voice is surprisingly even, despite the subject matter. “That everyone who ever cared for me would be waitin’ for me after I died… my family, and stuff. Guess that's just a load of shit, though.” Amami grunts in response, and he continues on. “You know, back there ya seemed like the kind of guy that girls like.”

“What does that have to do with-”

“There's a point to this, believe me,” Hoshi shuts his eye. “Did they make ya think that anyone close to you was dead? For ratings purposes, or whatever?”

Amami shifts uncomfortably, the memory bubbling to the surface. “My… my little sister.” Of course. He had felt like a failure of a brother within the game, hadn't he? And now it’s up in the air if she even died in the first place. He remembers his siblings well enough to imply that they were real, but the memories of his sister’s maybe-death are blurry, and-

The phony tennis player seems to notice Amami’s struggle, and interjects in an attempt to distract him - or simply to continue his own story. “They made me think that not only had my family died, but also my girl. I just wanted to see her again… her and everyone else. And that's why I was goddamn suicidal. Thought I had nothin’ left, and that everything was waiting for me up here.” He takes a finger and traces it back and forth below his empty eye socket, deep in thought. Amami feels a certain wistfulness emanating from him. “But that was a load of crap, wasn't it? I think she was real. I  _ know _ she was real. But wherever she is, she ain't here. So, again, I died for nothing.” 

Amami puts a hand on his shoulder. Hoshi tenses up considerably, before slowly loosening his shoulders. 

“What was her name?”

A ghost of a smile - hah, how ironic - crosses Hoshi’s face. He closes his eye again, but this time it's more out of nostalgia than anything, reaching for something that may have never even been there. 

“Seia.”

There's a silence between the two, thick as a fog. 

“You're a good kid, Amami.”

But Amami remembers how Kaede looked when she realized that he was hiding the truth from her, and he's not inclined to agree. 

 

Kaede’s been in the hospital room with Toujou for about an hour now. At least, she thinks that it’s been an hour? Time continues to be strange here. She realizes at one point that she could probably use the theatre to gauge what time it is in the real world, but hearing Toujou’s shallow breathing pulls her back to reality. Maybe she can do that later - still, the idea of watching her living classmates go about their days instills a certain sick feeling in her that she can’t place. So she just sits on a chair near Toujou’s hospital bed that she can only describe as a mocking imitation of a comfortable chair. 

She has no idea how long it’s been since she left the land of the living, but even after she had died to save everyone else from an untimely fate (which, she noted, was all for naught considering that  _ she didn’t even kill Amami _ ), two of their classmates had passed. Their little group was down to three-fourths of its number now, and despite the fact that Kaede is a social person by nature, she isn’t particularly pleased about her new company.

_ Is _ she a social person by nature?

The truth seems less and less valid as she mulls it over, and it creates a pit in her stomach. How deep does this fabrication go? Is she even the same person she was a year - no, a  _ few months _ ago? Maybe even a few weeks? Her memories continue to swirl, remaining foggy. No matter how she tries, she just can’t-

Toujou jerks upright with all the subtlety of a charging elephant, starting to breathe heavily. Kaede is compelled to dash over by her side and hold her shoulders as she pants, though she tries to avoid laying her fingers on the numerous gashes that mar her skin. For a time, there are no words spoken between the two of them, just the sound of the phony maid’s labored breaths and the faint crashing of the waves against the shore. 

Eventually, Toujou’s breathing becomes normal again, and she’s able to sit up without Kaede supporting her shaking shoulders. There’s a million things that Kaede wants to say, but she figures that letting her have the first word is probably better than assailing her with questions, especially considering that she doesn’t know how she died. 

Toujou gives Kaede a long, long look before finally opening her mouth. 

“A-akamatsu-san… you’re supposed to be dead, no?”

Kaede can’t help but laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's been a while. This one's shorter than I was intending because I lost steam, so the stuff that got cut out of it will be next chapter. toujou fans grab your ketchup
> 
> As always, I love comments and they are much appreciated! I'd love to hear your theories and ideas for what might come next. Thank you for reading!


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